Insanity
by judesie
Summary: The Infection through the eyes of a 14-year-old girl. Trapped between the mindless craze of the Infected and the thoughts of a sane human, Haley has to make a choice: Will she let the disease consume her, or will she fight back until the bitter end?
1. Sick

"Haley? Sweetie, are you alright?"

I felt a warm hand press against my forehead. Battling against my weariness, I opened my eyes, squinting in an attempt to see through the dark.

"Mom?" The shadow standing over my bed shifted.

"Yes, honey? How are you feeling?" I didn't need a light to know that she was making a feeble attempt at a smile. That was Mom. Always worried. Always trying to fix things.

"I'm... I'm doing fine." Although she couldn't see me, I pasted a smile on my face. I'd rather lie to her instead of giving her another load of worry. Everyone in the family was sick except for Mom, and she was struggling under having to take care of three sick people. Dying people. Her sick, dying family. "I'm feeling better... M-maybe I can help? How's Diana?" I heard a weak cough come from the room next to mine.

"She's doing fine... just fine..." Her voice trailed off, and I knew that none of us were getting any better. "I'm going to check on her, m'kay? Get some sleep." She gently squeezed my shoulder then left, leaving me alone in my bedroom. Leaving me alone to die.

The virus had started to spread one month ago, and it was taking peoples' lives by the thousands every day, showing no mercy. Doctors were stumped. At least, until they died from the virus themselves. I let out a short, dry chuckle. You can't ponder over something when you're dead, can you?

My entire body ached. I could feel a pile of worn, old stuffed animals at my feet, a monument my little sister had put together before the Infection had hit her. I heard more coughs, then a patting sound as my mother tried to sooth my younger sister.. She's too young. She shouldn't have to suffer. I felt my stomach clench at the thought of what would happen next. The idea of the outcome of the Infection scrolled through my head as if I were watching a game show.

_Hey, hey, hey, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to "Guess That Infection!" Our contestants, 90% of the human race, are going to show us what will eventually happen at the end of this sick epidemic! Whoops! There goes another bunch, off to an eternal afterlife! Buh-bye! Looks like our younger folk are dying even quicker! Poor little Johnny, he had a great life ahead of him! Well... Adios! Stay tuned 'til after the break, when we get to predict the outcome of another 2,000 people!_

I shivered as a chill shot through my body. I felt my stomach lurch, and I shot up in bed. My stomach contents of medicine and cold cereal subsided, and I sat for a few seconds, absorbing the quiet night. Not a single sound came from the rest of the house. Did everyone fall asleep? Lying back down, I closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep myself. After a few minutes of an uncomfortable rest, I finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

* * *

I woke up what appeared to be the next morning to the sound of choked sobs. My limbs felt like solid lead, and I barely had the strength to open my eyes. I drifted in and out of a fuzzy world, catching bits and pieces of a gut-wrenching conversation.

_"Oh, m-my Haley... my sweet... Haley! Oh Haley..."_

_"I'm so sorry ma'am. Is your family at home?"_

_"Ah-ah... t-they're all sick. Haley... my Haley..."_

Why was she crying? I wasn't dead! Had someone else died? I tried to scream, to sit up or even open my eyes, but I couldn't.

_"Ma'am... Please, try to stay with me here. How many members are in your family?"_

_"M-my... my little girl... She was getting better..."_

I heard another round of chocked sobs, and I desperately tried to open my eyes. Why was I paralyzed? Was I dead? Couldn't they hear my heart beat? Millions of questions pushed and shoved themselves into my thoughts. I heard a shuffling of feet, and a man's voice rang out, slightly annoyed._  
_

_"Sir, we can't seem to get her to think straight. She's too traumatized."_

Traumatized? I was her daughter, she thinks I'm dead!_  
_

_"Well... More bodies are coming in by the dozen. Get a name and an address, then move on!"_

I heard the man walk away, and my mother exploded into another round of sobs.

_"Ma'am... Could you please give me your daughter's name? An address, too?"_

_"H-Haley... My little Haley..."_

_"We need an address, ma'am. Please."_

_"Haley Mitchell... We named her Haley... She looks just like her grandmother..."_

My mother's voice trailed off. She needed to pull herself together! Diana was dying, who was watching her at home? What about Dad? I wanted to stand up and scream at her. Scream at anyone, anything. I just wanted to scream.

_"Okay. Uh... We're required by law to transport her to a separate area along with the other... Infected... Ah... well..."_

Separate area? Infected? I heard my mother sniff, then stand up. I felt a hand caress my cheek, and she broke down into another round of wails. They must have lead her away, because I felt myself being rolled on a gurney into another "area". Someone picked up my body and threw me onto the... floor? What was this? A pile of... bodies? No! I desperately tried to move, but my efforts were useless. I was just another Infected, a rag-doll, a shell of what used to be a person. I drifted into another sleep, a part of me still hoping that this was just a nightmare.


	2. Infected

I faded in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity. The first time I woke up, I was still unable to move. It felt like I was in the middle of a massive dog-pile of bodies, and I felt trapped. Was I ever going to regain my ability to move? Was this death? I faded back into a troubled sleep.

The next time I "woke up", I was being carried by an unknown person. I was set down inside what felt like a coffin, and a lid was closed down on top of me. Was this my burial? My thoughts flickered back to my family. Were they alive? Strangely, I didn't want to know. They were gone, I knew that, and I didn't want to think about them.

I woke up in my "coffin" later on, and I was overjoyed to find that I was able to move. I opened my eyes, and after a few minutes of faded sound, my hearing returned. I was in a cardboard box, and I could hear ultimate _chaos_ outside. Animal-like screams mixed in with the sound of boxes falling, things crashing, and even more screams. I eventually found the courage to lift up the lid to my box. My vision was blurred, but I sat up anyway and tried to look around. Hundreds of blurred figures sprinted around in front of me, and it looked like I was inside a large warehouse. My vision cleared up, and I had to choke back a scream of terror. I was in a large, metal building- a cross between a warehouse and a shack -sitting in a long, cardboard coffin. Hundreds of these boxes were lined up along a wall, and most of them had been either ripped open or shoved aside. Large piles of broken bits of wood, metal, glass, and other industrial objects of sorts were scattered around the building. Screams rang throughout the building. I was not alone.

Hundreds, possibly thousands, of gnarled, zombie-like creatures were running around, wrecking everything in their path and occasionally fighting each other. They were disgusting creatures: Their skin appeared a rough, scarred and torn shade of grey, with warts scattered all across their body. They wore clothes nearly torn completely off their bodies, and their faces... their faces were the most horrifying. Their eyes were shrunk back into their heads, and glinted with a crazed look. Their mouths were usually in the form of a snarl, with chipped, decaying teeth bared. Some of them were male, others female, and their hair fell knotted and tangled, streaked with dirt and slime. Some of them walked slowly, others crawling at an alarming rate. Strange versions of the zombies popped up every so often, with sharpened claws or extra-wart-filled faces. I shrank towards the back of my box, pressing my back against the worn cardboard. How was I going to get out of here? It was a wonder that they hadn't noticed me yet... or tried to eat my brains. I felt a lump in my throat. I was going to die, there was no doubt about it. I brought my hand up to my face to wipe a soon-to-be-shed tear... and I screamed.

My skin was a grotesque shade of grey, and large, curved claws grew from short stubs of fingers. Using the back of my hand, I felt my face. My skin was tough and extremely dry, and my hair was tangled with bits of an unknown grime in it. My clothes were still somewhat intact, although they were frayed at the edges.

What happened to me? Why was I a monster? My eyes scanned the entire warehouse, looking for an exit. Would the crazed zombies notice me if I stood up? Would they sniff me out? I slowly stood up and started to walk away from my cardboard haven. I tripped and stumbled, unable to regain any form of balance. I tried to walk at a slow, steady pace, and ending up nearly running into a horde of zombies. All of my senses and control was gone. Slowly to a crawl, I shuffled around on my knees and palms, weaving through the bits of broken objects scattered on the ground. I realized that all of the other monsters were completely ignoring me. I inhaled sharply, stifling another scream when I realized something: These must be the Infected people. I must have caught the virus, and now I was a... a... horror-movie... _thing._

As I crawled to a corner, I decided to try and study the animals running around me, yelping and hissing and screaming. They all resembled humans, but moved with such an animal-like feel that I couldn't bear the thought of thinking that these were once _people... _Mothers and brothers, sons and nieces with likes and dislikes, favorite foods and personalities. They were all insane, lost in a world of chaos and instinct and nothing left but their need for... something. Me? I was... stuck. Stuck between being a human and an animal, a victim of a disease_._ I was alone._  
_


	3. The Desert

I sat in the warehouse for a very long time, studying myself and the Infected around me. The claws protruding from my hands were extremely sharp, and I ended up cutting myself a good amount of times while trying to get a good look at them. When I did cut myself, however, I noticed that my blood was very dark, almost black, and unusually sticky compared to human blood.

What was I going to do? I rested my head against the wall behind me, closing my eyes. Or, I _thought _I closed my eyes; I could still see blurred images running around. Strange.

I could try escaping the warehouse, maybe try and look for people who would help me? I rejected this idea. Nobody was going to play nice to a zombie. An "EXIT" sign blinked at me from across the building, and a doorway- free of doors, however –revealed a sparkling night sky outside. I slowly got to my feet and tried to walk calmly through the crowd of Infected. I stumbled, then ended up bursting into a full-blown sprint. I made it out the door in no time, and ended up tumbling and falling flat on my face when I tried to stop. _This could have something to do with why all the Infected run so fast! _I could almost feel a light bulb go off in my head. They probably found it easier to sprint around. I myself itched to run at my full-speed: With the ability to run like this, why walk? I looked around. It seemed like this "facility for the undead" was in the middle of a large desert. I could spot a glint on the horizon… Was it a town? Another building? I decided to try out my newfound "powers" and ran towards the glint.

"_Hahaha!_" I cackled, and my voice came out raspy… yet very, very loud. I felt like I was flying, my feet barely touching the sand as I ran… and ran… and ran. The glint grew closer, and it soon started to look like a small town. I could see small buildings peeking out behind taller skyscrapers.

"A city…?" I mumbled, slowing to a stop and falling onto my knees. "Gotta get used to this…" I continued to mumble. This new voice of mine sounded so _different. _"She sells sea shells by the sea shore!" I giggled. I was very close to the city now: Close enough to peek inside the window of one of the houses. I crawled on my hands and knees up to the back of the house, and slowly stood, eager to catch a glimpse of what was inside. As I peeked inside, I noticed the reflection of my eyes. They were a deep, yet piercing red. I stumbled backward, shocked by my new eye color.

"Breathe… It's not that bad…" I crawled back to the window and peeked in.

I almost screamed at what I saw.


	4. Mark

Inside the small house, I had expected a normal family dwelling: a bed, a living room, maybe a small kitchen just to top it all off. I was even suspecting that a family would be asleep inside, huddled up in their own little beds. What a saw was far from a "normal family dwelling".

Instead of separated rooms throughout the house, the entire area was one big room. The walls were painted a bleak white, and numerous machines lined the walls, their lights blinking and beeping. The floor was tiled and extremely dirty, smudged with dirt and spilled liquids. Florescent lights covered the ceiling, but they had been shut off for the night. Despite this, I could still see perfectly into the room, and it wasn't the machines along the wall, or the dirty floor, or the strange, eerie feel the place gave off that made me choke back a scream.

It was the bodies.

At least twenty beds were arranged inside the room, and a sickly person was lying on each one. Tubes and wires were pierced into numerous parts of their bodies, and some even had strange oxygen masks strapped to their faces. They were covered in nothing but a simple, white bed-sheet, and some of the bodies looked as if they were shivering from the cold. Others lay perfectly still, hands at their sides as if they were practicing a pose for their funeral. They all wore an expression of deep pain on their faces, despite the fact that it appeared that most of them were sleeping. My eyes scanned the numerous bodies, then froze on a bed where a small girl lay, black hair swept out on her pillow and skin a frightening shade of pale white.

It was Diana, my younger sister. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was twisted up into a frown, as if she had tasted something horribly bad. Tubes ran from her arms and connected her frail body to buzzing machines. I felt my throat close up as I looked into her face, and I clenched my fist, claws digging into my palms. I felt like crying- really, _truly _sobbing. I had to dig my nails deeper into my palms to keep myself from bursting into wails of sorrow. What were they doing to my little sister? Why were they running monstrous tests on her, keeping her trapped in this... this... _facility!_ I felt myself clench my teeth, then let out a short, huffed sigh. I wanted to break into the house and take her away, away from the pain and the Infection and everything- But I knew that I couldn't. She probably wouldn't recognize me anyway, or the monster that I had become. I took a slow step away from the window. I had to do _something. _I couldn't just see myself walk away. I wasn't going to walk away. I was going to make a _plan. _I was just about to turn around when I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. Snapping my head to my left side, I bared my teeth out of pure animal instinct. A masked stranger was holding a syringe to my shoulder, pumping an unknown green liquid into my body. I let out a fierce growl and ripped my body away, breaking the needle of the syringe in half, leaving a piece of it embedded in my skin. I bared my claws and sent a blow across his face, but he ducked down just in time to avoid the attack. _Who is he? _I voice in my head screamed. _Trying to hurt me? No! _I threw myself at him, bent on destroying this creature. Before I could bite, claw, or do any damage to the man, my vision started to blur and I collapsed into a heap. _What was happening? Drugs? _The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the man bending over me, plucking the piece of metal out of my skin.

* * *

I woke up lying on a messy cot, and my head throbbed with an intense pain. I shot up and looked around. _Where was I? _It seemed as if I was in a small basement. A desk stacked with numerous papers, bottles, and books sat across the room, and dripping pipes twisted around each other above my head. Tables and bookcases were scattered across the room, stuffed with random objects of seemingly no relation: toilet paper, bags of paper clips, pieces of carved wood, and bottles of Pepsi, among others. Some of the bookcase had fallen down, and other tables had broken legs, aided with the help of a dictionary to help prop it up. A man sat hunched over at the desk, his back towards me. When I sat up, he jerked his head around and trotted over, eyeballing me curiously. A vicious snarl escaped my lips, and I lifted up one of my hands... Only to reveal that my claws had been bandaged together with an industrial form of tape. I brought my hand to my lips and used my teeth to rip the tape off, but stopped when the man started to stutter.

"Oh, oh-oh-oh, I wouldn't do that, no! Please, keep the tape on." His brows furrowed in a look of fear, and I glanced up, studying him. He had shaggy brown hair that stopped just above his ears, and his skin was slightly tanned, complimenting a set of light-brown eyes. He wasn't very attractive, but he wasn't a perfect example of a nerd, either. I snorted as I thought of the perfect thought to describe him: _Average. _He was just a boring, average _dude_, probably around his mid-twenties.

"And why not?" I snarled back. A part of me smiled when my voice came out threatening and husky. Very evil-y.

"Um, well, see... You could, well, get mad and, er, _attack _me." His eyed widened slightly in fear.

"I'm _already _mad."

"Oh. Well, just hear me out. Okay?" He shifted nervously.

I waited, glaring at him. Who was _he_ to order me around?

"Okay, okay. You-you, well, you're an Infected, and... I've been, uh, somewhat studying the zom-er, Infected, and..." He coughed, then wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Nervous, eh? "Okay, let me start over. My name-uh, I'm Mark. Mark Davidson. I'm Immune, so-to-speak, and, well..." He sighed. "I've been attempting to study the Infection every since it hit a while back. This..." He gestured to the entire room, cluttered with junk. "...it's my 'lab'. I guess you can say I've been trying to find a cure, but..." His mouth twisted up into a little frown. "Not working." He grabbed a pen from his table and jabbed at the air between us, pointing at me. "But _you're_ probably wondering why your here, eh?" He grinned. I narrowed my eyes. "You're one of the very few- and I mean, hah, _very_ few Infected I've seen that still displays human-like characteristics." He picked up a thick, leather volume and flipped to a bookmarked page, holding it up to display two pages full of minuscule writing. "It's very interesting. Very interesting." His voice trailed off, and I scowled.

"So, you decided to _capture _me to _study_ me, huh?" I sprinted across the room and grabbed at his shirt. "You got anything to do with my sister? Huh?" I nearly lifted him off the ground. If this- this _bozo_ had captured my sister to run tests and studies on her, I wasn't going to let him off easy.

"No! That room you saw? That's the military's doing." He sighed as I shoved him back into his swivel chair. "I'm non-profit. Hah." He mumbled, then turned around to study me once more. "But _you,_ you're an interesting one indeed." He shook his head, grinning.

"And what do you mean by that?" I narrowed my eyes once more. This guy was fishy.

"Look at you! You're an interesting, a... a- _hybrid!_ You run with the speed of a Witch, but have the senses of a Hunter! Your claws are those of a Witch! You lack the mutations of numerous Infected, and... your _human!_ You think human and talk human, no?" He laughed, his tone tinged with a hint of astonishment. "It's great, just great! Finally, a _breakthrough _in my study of the Infection! I could have a cure in no time!" He turned back to his desk and shuffled through his papers, pulling bits and pieces of notes as he dug through the mess.

"Now, you listen here!" I knocked over his chair, sending him sprawling onto the ground. "I'm not some stupid lab test! I want answers, and you're gonna give them to me! You're gonna _help _me! I'm not your lab rat!" I screamed at him, my voice reaching a crazed level. "I don't know what a Witch, or a Warlock, or whatever you're calling me, but there are zombies out there, and I'm one of them. So for Christ's sake, _what is going on?_"

He stared at me, dumbstruck. Shifting into a sitting position, he sighed. Again.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was just caught up in it all, okay? I've been wandering around, trying to survive against these crazed monsters... and... I..." He rested his head in his hands. "My family, my fiance, they all caught the disease. They're out there, now, wandering the streets. I _lost _them, and I'm not going to lose myself, too. Hell, I want answers just like you do." I suddenly felt bad for yelling at the guy. I crouched down, and tried to meet his eyes.

"Geez, look... Ah, I'm sorry about your family. I'll tell you what I know, but you need to give me something in return. M'kay?" I tilted my head towards a door. "My little sister, she's sick, and I need to help her. So... We got a deal?" I stuck out my hand, then pulled it back, remembering my deadly claws. I'll help this guy, sure, but I wasn't going to go _too_ soft on him just because he changed mental channels from _The Discovery Channel _to _Soap Opera Central._

He lifted his face from his hands and smiled.

"Deal."


	5. Broken Deals

After our brief agreement that night, I started to ask millions of questions. After answering a few of them, I could tell that Mark was getting impatient with me. I didn't care: He promised me answers.

_Why am I a "special" Infected?_

_I don't know yet. If I could take a blood samp-_

_Why is the military holding my sister?_

_I... I don't know. Testing? Listen, Hannah-_

_It's Haley._

_Haley. Er, can I take just a quick sample of your blood? I... It'll help find a cure._

_Um. Sure._

I allowed him to stick another needle into my arm. Despite being awake for so long, I felt no need to sleep.

"Aren't you tired?" He mumbled, sitting at his desk and looking through a microscope.

"Nope. Hey, so why don't I ever get hungry?"

"Oh. Right..." His voice trailed off, and he turned around in his chair. He started to click his tongue, then stopped and started to intertwine his fingers. "Well... You, ah... the Infected have no need to eat once transformed: Your bodies learn how to become self-dependent. They save all the vitamins and necessary cells from your... previous... life... and they reproduce them. It's quite an unusual phenomenon..." He inched his chair back towards his desk, as if eager to get back to work. His eyes snapped back up. "But... after a few days, you'll start to get... fidgety... anxious is the word... You'll find yourself, well..." He let out an impatient sigh. "Your pupils will start to expand, and soon your irises- well, what's left of them, will completely disappear, and your vision will, well... expand. Long story short..." He shifted lower into his seat. "Other Infected have shown these signs, and, well... You need to kill. Something, anything. It may have something to do with the amount of adrenaline pumped through your body at the time, maybe that... that could be your form of 'food'. But..." He scooted his chair around, then grew silent.

"Um, what? 'I need to kill'? You know how stupid that sounds?" I took a menacing step towards him. I felt angry; He wasn't giving me answers! But, I found that I mostly felt... scared. His talk about getting anxious and jumpy, that's been happening to me. At times, I feel like jumping out the door and running full speed somewhere, anywhere. Maybe into a hoard of zombies, if that's what it took. I let out an exasperated sigh and flopped down onto my cot. I don't need to sleep... But _can_ I? I closed my eyes and drifted into something else; Not sleep, but more of a... something. A haze swept over my mind, and I fell _asleep._

* * *

I felt myself jolt back into reality: Mark was bent over me, inserting yet another needle into my arm. I growled softly and jerked away, causing him to gasp and pull his syringe back, saving its precious contents.

"What was_ that_ for?" He shouted, his eyes ablaze with fury. "You promised me help!" He held the syringe in front of my face, gently shaking it, causing the liquid inside to slosh around inside. "This stuff is valuable!"

"Then you should tell me things before injecting me with _crap!_" I thrust my arm out, knocking the syringe to the floor. I took my foot and stomped on it, causing the glass to burst and the contents to spill across the concrete floor. I looked up at him, and glared. His face, however, was frozen in a look of shock. Sadness, even? Jeez, this guy liked his chemicals. He slowly spun on his heel and walked back to his messy desk, sitting down without uttering a word. He grabbed a few pieces of paper and made a feeble attempt to straighten them. My mouth parted into a silent gasp of shock; I didn't know he would be _that_ offended.

"Uh... I'm sorry. You were right, I'm just antsy." I took a few steps towards him. He whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

"We had a deal."

I sighed. This guy and his deals. "Look, Mark. A deal is a deal, but you gotta respect my... er, space, ya know? Don't go stickin' me out of nowhere..." I chuckled weakly.

"Respect _what_ privacy?" He exploded, knocking things over on his desk as he stood. "You're no human! You're some freak! _Freak!_" He grabbed a handful of syringes lying on a table and threw them at me. I turned to the right and felt a slight prick as the needles bounced off my tough skin and fell to the ground. "That stuff- That was valuable! _It could have been a cure!_" He walked towards me and shoved me towards the back wall, causing me to stumble and topple onto the bed. I growled and stood back up to face him.

"Don't push me!" I screeched and sent a blow to his chest. It knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling to the ground. I walked to the only door in the room and started to bang on it, trying to get out. He grabbed a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open, holding it to his ear.

"Bayer, she's not with the program anymore!" He bellowed into the phone. I turned away from the door. _Not with the program?_ I walked over and kicked the phone in his hands. I bent down next to him.

"'Not with the program'? Who are you calling, hm? We had a deal!" I sent a blow to his side and rushed to the window. I tried using my claws to pry it open, but it was sealed shut. I let out a scream and pounded the window.

"_Help! _Help me!" I pounded some more on the door.

"Not one's gonna help some monster," he mumbled. I turned around and he grinned. Blood was dripping from a cut on his forehead, and he spat blood out of his mouth. He sneered and nodded towards the phone lying a few feet away. "They're a'coming. Gonna get 'chu." He laughed and rested his head on the floor. I screeched and ran back to the door, kicking and screaming and yelling. Not that it helped. The door swung open and a bright light flashed in my face.

"Get it!"

I felt something puncture my side, and I doubled over. Fire spread through my body, and the pain caused me to fall to the floor. _What is this?_ I lost consciousness when a man stumbled to my side and sent a sharp kick to my head.


	6. Hybrid

I could barely open my eyes when I regained consciousness. A bright light blinded me and I let out a soft groan when my head started to throb. Of all places, I was in a white, padded room. I found myself strapped to a metal table and screeched. Anger bubbled up inside of me, and I tried to rip free of my bindings. That Davidson, he cheated me! I felt tears slide down my cheeks as I began to choke out sobs. A lump formed in my throat and I cried even louder. Why me? Why did this stupid Infection even exist? Life was going perfectly _dandy_ before this disease. I started to sniffle quietly when I saw a door open out of the corner of my eye, and five people wearing masks and ridiculous rubber suits crowded around me. A girl holding a clipboard prodded at my side, and I screamed and tried to bite her face off... literally. She jumped a mile back, then resumed a professional stance. A man standing next to her held up one of those portable recorders and pressed his finger down on a red button.

"Alpha Infected number four. Displays human emotions and communication. Hybrid..." She mumbled into the recorder. "Appears to be a cross-breed between Hunter and Witch species." She lifted up a huge syringe and nodded at her companions. They unbuckled my straps and forcefully turned me over. I growled softly, but frankly, I was too worn out to fight back. The military liked their drugs, and they liked them _strong._ I screamed, however, as she slowly inserted the needle into my back. I started to sob hysterically, and I thought I could barely distinguish a comforting pat from one of the people that held me down. "Spinal fluid obtained. Hybrid shows great pain, which confirms nerve feeling is apparent in all areas of body. Concludes day two of experimental actions. Written report to follow." I heard the click of the recorder being turned off, and the people began to turn me back over. A sharp pain came from my back, and I choked out a sob.

"Please..." I whispered. The suited men and women stopped. "My back... Please don't strap me... on my back... it... it hurts..." I cried, but slowly quieted as they strapped me down as I lay on my stomach, being careful to avoid buckling a strap over my wound. "Th-thank... you..." I looked up at a surprisingly elderly woman in a suit and a feared expression froze onto her face, then softened. She smiled weakly, then walked out of the room with the rest of the group.

The fluorescent lights in the room were shut off, and I was cast into complete darkness. I was too upset to care about where I was... too upset to care about anything, for that matter. I closed my eyes and drifted back into a haze of a sleep.


	7. Death

Darkness.

After what seemed like a few more days of tests and syringes, rubber-suited people and even more syringes, I was cast into complete darkness. On the day of their last test, the same group of five drew blood from my arms and carefully cut a piece of my skin out of my forearm. I screamed. They remained silent. After ten minutes of agonizing pain, the group pocketed their surgical instruments and injected me with an amber liquid. I was unstrapped and dragged- helplessly, for the amber liquid seemed to be a tranquilizer, -into another room. This one seemed colder and less welcoming, if possible, than my previous cell. The walls weren't padded, but instead appeared to be plain, cracked walls. The only entrance was a thick metal door, and there were no lights. The five people dragged me to the center of the room and began to walk out. I stayed slumped in a heap on the floor, my eyes cast downward. That's it. I'm infected now, so I can't die. They've left me here to wallow in misery until... what? My thoughts drifted back to Mark Davidson, my so-called friend. How could I have trusted him in the first place? He had reminded me that I needed to kill, and at least that much was true- I had grown so restless, uncomfortable lately that I felt like... like...

My thoughts were interrupted by one of the scientists that had conducted tests on me. I remembered her as the elderly lady that had given me a reassuring pat the first day I was here. She stopped and knelt on the floor a few feet away from me, her eyes full of fright but pity at the same time. Out of her pocket she drew a rat- the most pathetic rat I've ever seen. It was skinny and near bald of hair, it's beady black eyes glancing every which-way, as if to find an escape. I looked at the rat, then glanced back up at the woman. Her eyes had hardened, and she mouthed a word.

_Kill._

Our eyes locked, and we seemed to reach a mutual understanding. She shuffled back to her feet, walking back outside and closing the metal door behind her without a second glance.

The room was cast bak into darkness, but I could barely make out the rat scuttling around the floor next to me. I slowly lifted one of my hands and used a single claw to pin down the squealing rodent.

"GAHHHHH!" I pierced the creature and threw it at a wall. A satisfying _crunch _rang through the cell, and I crawled- my energy still gone -towards the whimpering rat. Taking my fists, I began to pound mercilessly on the rodent, continuing to cackle even when I knew it had died. I screamed and slumped onto the floor, my entire body shaking against the concrete floor.


	8. Escape

I stayed there, lying on the cold floor of my cell, for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't bother with trying to ponder _why_ I was here, _who_ were these people, _what_ I had become. I passed the time playing memories from my normal life over and over inside my head. Scenes, from when zombies were just creatures existing in video games, and people caught normal diseases. It sounds terrible, but given the choice, I'm sure the human race would rather occupy their time trying to find a cure for cancer instead of reloading their shotguns to kill zombies.

One of the memories – a favorite of mine, one that I relived inside my head hundreds of times – was of a day in the middle of June, back a couple years. School had ended, and my sister and I were swimming in our grandparent's backyard. We were holding a competition to see who could say underwater the longest. Diana had managed to stay down much longer than I, but began to feel dizzy after a few rounds. We crawled out of the swimming pool and I let her use my towel as a pillow while we lay on the sidewalk, staring at the sky. Our grandparents, who were out shopping for groceries, had come home to find us running around the kitchen, attempting to make lemonade. The kitchen was a mess, and the lemonade was much too sour, but we all ended up laughing afterward. I focused in on Diana's grinning face, framed by soaked strands of black hair. Her cheeks were red, and her bathing suit was… green? No, it had a floral pattern on it…

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash that came from outside my cell. I stood up and wentover to the large metal door. Stretching out a finger, I ran a long, sharp claw straight down the metal. The sound would have been excruciating to – bah, _normal_ people, but the sound didn't seem to affect me as much as it would have a few weeks ago. Yells came from outside, and I heard the distinct _clinks_ of guns being… reloaded? Cocked? A bang rang out, confirming my thoughts.

What _really_ shocked me was the sound of… a growl? Screeching? More shots rang out, and I could discern frantic yells coming from the other side of the door.

"Secure the area! Don't let-"

"Paul! Shit, hurry, get out of the building! No, no, fuck the experiments, we don't need…" A sickening crack broke off the second voice, and I flinched. But then… no… it couldn't be… were the Infected escaping? I began to bang my fists against the door.

"HEY!" I screamed, my voice raspy and frantic. I scratched at the door, leaving thick claw marks down the cold steel. I backed away from the door as something began to bang against it. Dents began to reveal themselves, and the steel was bending as easily as plastic. I backed up until my back connected with the dirty wall, and edged along until I was as far away from the door as possible, attempting to squeeze myself into the corner.

The door flew from its hinges and crashed against the wall were I had been standing mere moments ago. For a split second I wondered if the impact would have killed me. Was death… should I consider death as an option? Wouldn't it be best if I… just…

A hiss escaped my lips as a large, burly… hulk came into view. The thing was _massive._ It walked on its feet and hands, gorilla-style. I could have sworn I felt the entire room shake with its every movement. As our eyes met, I was relieved to see that the thing didn't have any intention of hurting me any time soon. It merely looked at me for a second, then grunted. It turned, and I noticed a horrible burn mark covering part of its back. "[TANK]," the scar screamed. Is that what it was referred to as? I followed it outside my prison and stopped to examine the room that had been outside mine for so long.

It could have passed for a boring office full of cubicles, if it weren't for the large amount of pure destruction. The place was trashed; Giant holes created new doorways in walls. Dead bodies were scattered around the large room, some still in those silly rubber suits. My heart ached when I recognized the face of the elderly lady who had been kind to me – at least, as kind as you could be to a disgusting _freak._ She looked as if she could pass as someone sleeping, maybe taking a quick nap. A crack echoed through the air and I turned, only to jump back from shock.

A dark figure was crouched on the floor, their hands rested on the floor to balance their body. A dark grey hoodie with the blocked letters "CRISS ACADEMY FOR UNSTABLE YOUTH" printed across the back was the person's clothing of choice, along with dark, slightly-baggy jeans. The jacket was zipped up all the way, and the person's face was peering intently at me. I took another tentative step back, unsure of what to make of this… new acquaintance. Most of their face was cast in a shadow, but I spotted a grin stretch across the person's face.

"No need to worry," the figure spoke. _Girl,_ a voice in my head declared. "We're on your side. For however long you want to help us, that is." The crouched figure nodded their head in the direction of what looked to be the main entrance. Doing so caused a long strand of blonde hair to escape the hood of their jacket.

"You wanna find a way out?"


	9. New Friends

I stared at the figure. _A way out?_ A bitter voice in my head sneered. _What good will that do? Besides, you can get out on your own just fine._

Immediately after I thought that, the figure spoke again.

"It looks like it would be easy to get out..." She turned her head slightly to acknowledge the bodies lying around. "...but there are more of them up ahead, and they aren't happy. So..." She glanced up at a clock hanging on a wall, but looked back down before her hood could slip any further. "You have about twenty seconds to decide. You can roll with us and Hulk-man here can provide us with a clean path out, or you can venture out on your own for... whatever."

_You can't trust them. They'll help you. What about Diana? Crap, ten seconds._ Before I could make sense of the pros and cons bouncing around inside her head, I blurted out. "Yes, yeah, um..."

"Okay then." She turned around and leapt up, making her way quickly down a deserted hallway - a hallway untouched by the chaos. The Tank followed behind her, but seemed tense. He looked as if he were trying to make less noise. I didn't know how he'd manage that, considering I could still feel the walls trembling.

"Um... hey, excuse me... person..." I tried to catch up with her without being accidentally squashed by the Tank. "Hey..." My eyes darted to her hoodie. "Criss?"

She slowed down and turned to look at me. I could tell she was smirking.

"So, why are we... why are we going down here?" It felt like a stupid question, but when we were so close to the main exit, I wanted to know why we had taken a different, smaller way out.

"I don't like to make a scene. Besides, where do you think the rest of 'em are waiting with their tranquilizers?" She jerked her head in the Tank's direction. "Or bazookas, in his case."

"Won't they hear us?"

"My hope is that they'll be a little more preoccupied with their dead coworkers and the madness of twenty special Infected released from their playpens."

"Wha- there's _more_ of... of us?" I let my voice soften as I said _us._ It just seemed so... wrong. That we probably weren't changing anytime soon. That we were stuck like this, and that we might as well team up or die alone.

"Yes, only most of them are far too rabid to even comprehend what I was trying to tell them. Others, they went off on their own."

We had reached the end of the hall, and a bright neon EXIT sign blinked at us from above a fire exit doorway.

"But... the alarm..."

Before I could continue, the Tank bumped into me - as soon as he did, he stopped and looked at me. I could tell he meant no harm, and I felt bad that he had to be that cautious around others. I scooted to the side to let him towards the exit, but instead of breaking it down, he turned and walked into a small office just to the left. Once he was inside, he took his fist and punched - literally _punched_ - the wall, leaving a giant hole to the outside. It was loud, but I'm sure not as loud as it would have been had we set off the fire alarm. As soon as the dust began to clear, the girl and the Tank began to run.

It was nighttime, and an overwhelming amount of stars twinkled above us in the midnight sky. As we ran, I kept twisting and turning my head, trying to absorb all the things around me. It looked like a regular office building, but with no windows and only one floor. However, built around the building were numerous guard towers. And around the entire facility was a large stone wall, lined with barbed wire. We were about halfway to the wall, running further away from the building when an alarm began to blare. it was excruciatingly loud, and a voice began to shout commands along with it.

"ESCAPED SPECIMENS, SECTION B TOWARDS THE SOUTH WALL. ALL UNITS REPORT TO AREA NOW."

The same order was screeched over and over again, and I pushed myself harder to keep up with the others, who had quickened their pace. As soon as we reached the wall, the Tank launched himself at the wall and crashed through. We ran through and I was shocked to see that there were buildings nearby. It occurred to me that we probably never left the city in the first place. I could hear the shouts of people from behind us, but no gunshots. Did they still want us alive? I stumbled when the girl leaped off to an abandoned house to the left, while the Tank ran off to a cluster of buildings. I continued to run straight ahead, towards an old, wooden structure. A small garden shed on the other side of the structure was barely visible, and I rushed towards it. It was a rotten looking thing, with brown paint peeling from its sides and mold growing on it from the ground up. Its door swung open and I clumsily forced myself inside. Rusty garden tools scratched at my skin, and, although it was extraordinarily uncomfortable, I balanced myself against the back wall and stood as still as I possibly could.

And I waited.

The first couple minutes were pure agony. Images kept materializing inside my head of a team of gun-wielding, angry-as-hell men in rubber suits, about to open the door of the shed and drag me back to my concrete cell. A more time passed, I began to wonder... how long had I _really_ been in there? That dark, cold cell. Oh, was it cold. Cold, hard, and a place that I was sure could give hell a run for its money. At first I was convinced it felt like months, but for all I knew, it could have been days, or mere hours. No contact, no sunlight, nothing to reassure me that any amount of time had passed at all.

Hours passed, and it began to grow lighter outside, the sky transitioning from a deep, dark blue, to a hazy deep purple. I figured that, if I were to ever leave the shed, I'd want to leave before the sun rose. It would be a better bet to find another hiding place - more comfortable one, anyway - while it was still dark, instead of stumbling about during the day, when people could most definitely see me easier than they could at dawn. I let the door swing open, and carefully stepped out, trying me best to not let any tools clatter to the ground.

As I stood in front of the shed, I let myself gaze up at the sky. It suddenly occurred to me that ever since I had become Infected, I'd never seen the sun, or been... what would you call it? _Awake, _during the daytime. I let out a sigh, and suddenly everything felt heavier, weighed down with more emotion. I _missed_ the sunlight. I missed waking up early, going through my day, complaining about the weather and chatting with strangers while standing in lines. All the things I really dreaded, back before the Infection, were now things that I'd take back any day. And knowing that I'd never get it back, I'd never be able to live my life the way I used to... hurt. It hurt so much. A soft _thud_ behind me interrupted my thoughts and I turned around.

"They're gone now," the girl sighed. "Good thing, too, I was nearly dying of boredom. Wait. Bad joke. Any-"

"What should I call you?" I interrupted her. "Sorry, I, um... just, what's your name?"

"Does 'Criss' not work for you anymore?" She smiled.

I ducked my head, embarrassed that I had called her that.

"Erin. Try that." She attempted to straighten up from her crouched position, but immediately bent back down.

She leapt up and landed a few yards away, going in the direction of the cluster of buildings where the Tank had run off to.

"We should go find our bulky friend before he knocks a building down."


	10. A Loss

"Hey, so... um... Er- Erin..." I ran around awkwardly, trying to catch up with Erin as she pounced from one end of the street to another. We had been walking around for a little while, searching alleyways and abandoned garages for the Tank. A few minutes after Erin had found me in front of my hiding place and we had both started looking around, it become apparent that the city we were in was abandoned. And by abandoned, I mean completely _deserted_. We couldn't even find a stray cat. I could tell Erin was growing more anxious. She had stopped jumping around so often, stopping for longer periods of time to glance around tensely and scrape her hand against the ground. I guess scratching at the pavement was an... odd habit of hers. She finally stopped enough for me to walk up to her and attempt to look at her face - most of it was still shadowed by her hood.

"You figured out how to walk," she commented. I glanced down at my feet. They were as warped as the rest of my body, of course, but I had figured that it wouldn't be much of an issue, her staring at the deformity, considering Erin's claws were just as menacing and grotesque as mine.

"Yeah, it's, uh, convenient, really. So listen... are... well, no... do we have a plan? Like, what are we going to do after, or, or if we find..."

"Well," her voice had taken an interesting tone. She was trying to come off as patient, but I could tell she was growing irritated. "We should take things one at a time. This is a first-time thing for me- being a zombie -so I don't really have too big of an idea on what our grand scheme should be based on. Let's find Hulky first, then maybe we can take inventory and... think of something." She crawled a few feet, tensing up to leap further down the street, then turned back to me.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

Erin laughed. "Nice. You young people, always anxious to do things, make plans, grow up. Slow down a bit and get a hold of your thoughts. We were cooped up a pretty long time, it should be nice to have some fresh air."

"You kept track?"

"Of how long we were locked up? Yeah." She straightened up to walk a few paces, then returned to her typical crawling position. "I don't know when you were put in there, but I cut notches into the wall. The sun set 237 times. I had been caught in the middle of the day. I was an idiot and tried to talk to a soldier guarding the gate."

"How were you able to keep track of the days?"

"There was a small window in my cell. After a day or two I began to keep count of how often the sun... yeah." Erin opened and closed her fists and jumped across the street and onto the side of a building, only to leap back to Haley's side. She went back to crawling at a slower pace.

"What about the... big guy?"

"Him? Oh, I dunno. He was one of the first Infected to escape, though. Went through most of the workers before letting more of the others out."

We continued our way down the street in silence.

"It's a wonder we haven't found him yet..." Erin mumbled. "You'd think that a big brute like him would make a lot of noise..." Erin's voice trailed off and she stopped crawling. I turned to her. Her eyes were fixed somewhere down the street. In between two buildings, I could make out a lump of... something, a heap on the ground. In a quick motion, Erin leaped towards the figure. I quickly followed her.

The heap was the Tank. A dozen or so tranquilizers- large darts about the size of average water bottles -were scattered across his back, embedded halfway into his skin.

"H-hey, big fella." Erin was crouched next to the Tank's head, her hands trying to gently cradle his disfigured face without scratching it with her claws.

"Is..." I trailed off. The tank groaned, the sound causing the ground beneath us to vibrate just the slightest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god." Erin reached out and let her hand hover over the darts. Liquid still sloshed around inside them as the Tank's back rose and fell as he breathed. As quickly as she could, Erin began to pull out the darts one by one, tossing them behind into the shadowy alleyway. The Tank groaned again.

"Hey... sorry bud, but you're... I don't think you're gonna make it." Another groan escaped the Tank, but this one was a little different. It was as if he was... chuckling. Erin stayed next to the Tank until the steady breathing of the creature faded away. Erin ducked her head away, quickly swiping at her face.

"That was rough..." Erin inhaled sharply. I stayed silent. I didn't want to try and comfort her only to make things worse. How did you comfort someone you barely knew?

"I... do you want to move him?"

"Yeah... yeah, let's do that. Just into the alley, out of sight."

The both of us grabbed his legs and dragged him to the end of an alley, up against the back door of another building. Even with the strength I had acquired after turning, I felt tired after the feat.

"I don't really... we shouldn't... it doesn't matter now, forget it," Erin mumbled roughly. We both stared at the rough muscle of the Tank's back, scarred and burned from whatever the workers in the prison had to do to keep him under control.

All of a sudden, a bright flash of light jumped across the Tank, only to disappear a second later. Erin's head jerked up, and a growl escaped her lips. I followed her gaze and caught a glimpse of a figure standing on roof of the building next to us, holding what looked like a weapon in their hands. The figure disappeared, running towards the other side of the roof and out of sight. With a screech, Erin jumped up and scaled the side of the building, chasing after the figure on the roof.

I stumbled backwards, trying to see more of the rooftop. I could still hear Erin's growls from far away. I ran back out into the street, turning around to search frantically for a way to the rooftop. I could _not_ lose her, not yet, anyway... she was the only other one like me,and I couldn't...

A shot rang out from above me, and I jumped. I spotted a fire staircase on the side of the building and sprinted towards it, leaping as high as I could and just barely grabbing on to the lowest bar on the ladder hanging down. My claws scratched against the metal as I climbed up the ladder. I took the stairs two at a time, and clumsily crawled onto the roof. After the shot had sounded, it had grown quiet except for Erin's screeches and growls.

My foot hit the weapon the figure had been holding, and it slid a few feet away from me. The faintest amount of smoke was still coming out of the gun's barrel. I looked up and yelped, then ran to the middle of the rooftop. Erin had a man pinned to the ground, her claws shredding through his sides. There was blood _everywhere_. When I reached her side I immediately recognized the man.

Mark Davidson.

A smile was pasted on his face - the last expression I had seen him wear before I was captured. He looked content, almost, as if being viciously attacked by a zombie was his weekly form of relaxation. He caught my gaze and directed his grin towards me. I growled. He began to splutter, blood dripping down his chin.

"I know where your sister is."

I screeched and threw myself at him, knocking Erin to the side. I grabbed his neck and pinned it to the ground. He began to choke, his smile fading away.

"I... know... how... I... tell... you... _freak_..."

I took my hand off his neck and sent a blow to his chest.

"She's still alive... tests... turning into... Infected." Mark struggled to breath, and his voice shook. Erin spoke from beside me.

"The same place?"

I turned to Erin. She was staring at Mark, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

"How do you know...?"

She looked at me and shook her head. _I__'__ll__ask__her__later,__then._ I directed my attention back to Mark.

"She's there..."

"Good." I got up and turned around to walk back to the fire exit. I heard Erin spit, then follow me.

"_Hey!_Where the hell are you going? Come back here, help me up you fuckers!"

Without missing a beat, I started back towards Mark. He grinned and propped himself up with his arms. "I told you where your sister is, now get me up, go on." He reached up and wiped away the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. I reached out and kicked him down. His head hit the concrete with a _thud_.

"The _fuck_ are you-"

"Listen to me," I spat. "You are a filthy, disgusting person, and I really want to bash your head in with my foot."

"Then do it."

"No." I glanced at his legs. _Break__them_, a voice in my head laughed. _Leave__him__up__here__in__excruciating__pain,__crying__for__mercy.__Think__of__how__much__he__deserves__it._ I silenced the voice and blocked the thoughts from my head. "You get to stay up here. You might be able to get up sooner or later, or you might just die. I don't care, it's not my problem." I turned back to Erin and walked back to the fire exit. He screamed as I walked away.

"_You're just a coward! You don't want my blood on your hands! Coward! Don't think you can stay alive forever!"_

Once Erin and I had climbed down the first flight of stairs, Erin let out a scoff. "There's no way I want to live forever. At least not under _these_conditions." She gestured to herself. It was then that I noticed her hood had fallen down. I stopped and looked at her exposed face, not attempting to hide my blatant staring.

Long blonde hair framed her face, which was normal except for a couple of thin scars that ran down her left jawline. Her face seemed unusually thin, and her lips were dry and cracked. Shadowy circles had formed underneath her eyes. They weren't sunken into her head like the zombies I had first seen in the warehouse - the only thing unusual about them was their blood red color.

"Your, um..." I gestured to her head. She reached up and rested her hand on the back of her head, then clutched at the hood of her jacket and pulled it around her neck. She smiled.

"I guess there's no point for it now, is there?" She leapt down the the ground, skipping the last few flights of stairs.

"I'm sorry if-"

"No, it's fine. It wasn't that big of a deal. I was just being _mysterious_." She laughed and pointed down the street, in the direction of the military base. "It's a wonder your sister is still alive... after all this time, I mean."

"No, I know." I squinted against the sun, trying to make out the outline of the base. All of a sudden, a cold thought crept up into my mind and I sighed, sitting down on the asphalt. I rested my head against my knees and bit my lip. _You__'__re__pathetic,_ my thoughts sneered. _How__horrible__can__you__get?_

"What's wrong?" Erin tilted her head, giving me a strange look.

"I think I've forgotten."

"Forgotten what?" She took a step in my direction.

"It feels... like I've forgotten her. I don't... I can't remember things. Memories Diana and I shared. I know they're there, but I can't recall... details. Things I should know. The color of the walls in her room. Her favorite stuffed animal. I know they were _there_, but I can't..." I groaned and shook my head. "Maybe I'm just making it up. I'm overreacting, that's all."

Erin stayed silent.

"I mean, it's been such a long time. I shouldn't expect myself to remember such small things." I rested my chin on my knee, staring at a broken window across the street. "But they were _important_. They should have been."

"I can't remember either."

Erin had spoken so softly, part of me thought her words had just been my imagination. She looked at me.

"It's like my life is a notebook, and I've left pages empty. Or like a diary. Something should be there, I know that, but I can't remember what." She sniffed, but showed no signs of sadness. "My mom's first name. What breed of dog I had. I have-" She placed two fingers against her lips. "I have a lip piercing, but I don't remember getting it. Or _why._ It's small things, but you'd think I'd be able to remember..."

I got up. "There's no point in wallowing in our misery now. We need to find my sister."

"But can't you _see?__"_ She grabbed my shoulders. "We're forgetting things. What if..."

"What if _what?__"_

"The other zombies don't remember things." Erin let go of my shoulders.

I stared at her.

"Nevermind." Erin started down the street. "Let's find that fucking sister of yours. I hope she's worth it."

I ignored her, and started down the street myself.

"If your sister ends up being dead," Erin shouted, "I hope you pay more attention to more important things, like the memories we're losing."

"The only memories I care about are of her, so I guess we're on the right track."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait on chapter ten! I wanted to keep this story of mine free of author's notes, but if you've read this far, I'd appreciate it if you dropped me a review and let me know what you think. Cheers!


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